


Five Reasons Why G Trusts Sam

by misslucy21



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-01
Updated: 2011-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 18:16:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslucy21/pseuds/misslucy21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are more than 5 reasons why G trusts Sam more than anyone he's trusted before. But these are the important ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reason #1: Because Sam works around the stuff that bothers G

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meadow Lion (Meadow_Lion)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meadow_Lion/gifts).



> These aren't in chronological order and they are all either about pre-series or season 1 events.

Early on in their partnership, after G had started to trust Sam (but not really), and after Sam had stopped wanting to strangle G on a daily basis (but not really), they wound up on an epic undercover road trip assignment. Sam's still not sure how that made sense, but, well, sometimes the best way of doing something isn't the most expedient way of doing something. And Hetty may have had something to do with it; that's what usually happens when Sam doesn't understand why he's doing something.

They'd stop for the night around dinner time, since they'd usually been driving since dawn. Sam had insisted on chain motels, as opposed to the no-tell motels that G would have used if it were up to him. He'd pointed out that part of the point of this trip was that they were supposed to be tracked- they were playing bait- and that had made enough sense to G to score them reasonably clean rooms, bedding and showers. Plus continental breakfast. About three days in, Sam was starting to understand why G didn't care whether the beds were clean- he never seemed to sleep in them. He'd doze off for awhile in the car, but never for more than an hour at a time. Otherwise, Sam didn't think G had slept since they left LA. But G seemed just as alert and on top of things as he had back in LA, so maybe Sam was wrong. Maybe he did sleep and just woke up earlier than Sam did (although, given Sam's tendency to wake up at 4:45 am no matter what, that seemed like a questionable assumption).

On Day Four, when Sam came back to the car from getting their room for the night (the Best Western, near Twin Falls, Idaho), he found G sitting with his head against the steering wheel.

"Tired?" Sam asked, when G startled up to look at him as he got back in the car. G shrugged, but didn't answer. He drove the car around the side of the motel and parked.

Sam handed him a room key. "Why don't you go ahead and I'll call Macy. Room 232."

"Yeah, all right," G acquiesced, taking the key and getting out of the car. Sam watched as he got his duffle from the trunk and walked into the motel before pulling out his phone to call in.

It took twenty minutes or so to update Macy and Eric on their whereabouts and what they'd done (mostly continued driving in a big loop around the western states) and where they thought they'd head tomorrow (Sam was thinking Oregon. He was getting tired of mountains and desert), and finding out what Eric knew about the people who they were supposed to be bait for (not that much, but they probably knew that Sam and G had been in Texas the day before yesterday, so there was hope that they'd be able to end this sometime before the next decade. They may have to start being a little more conspicuous). Eric signed off of the call and Macy asked, "So, how are you guys doing? No urges to murder G in his sleep yet?"

"G sleeps?" Sam asked, before he thought about it.

Macy sighed. "He's not sleeping," and it sounded more like a statement than a question. When Sam hesitated, not sure whether he should confirm or not, she said, "It's ok, Sam. I know about it."

"He sleeps in the car a little, but I don't think he's sleeping when we stop for the night," Sam confessed.

"He said he'd try," Macy sighed. "The new psych guy doesn't really think much of how G takes care of himself, which is the only reason why I'm concerned. Ordinarily, I don't quibble about G sleeping or whatever, because pushing him on it just pisses him off, but I also don't want him grounded."

"Should I do something?" Sam asked.

"Eh," Macy said. "Probably not much you can do. He'll be ok. When you guys get back, I'll give you both a couple days off and it'll work itself out."

"Ok," Sam said.

"In the meantime, just don't fall asleep at the wheel, either of you," Macy said. "Car crashes aren't in the budget here."

"Got it," Sam said. "Talk to you tomorrow."

"Yup," Macy said as she signed off.

Sam sighed, and got out of the car. He looked around, and located a McDonalds down the street. It would do for tonight, he thought, and started walking.

After securing some dinner and walking back to the motel, Sam let himself into the room. "Hey, it's me," he said, as he walked in, in the hopes of not startling G too badly. He came into the room and was surprised to see G fast asleep in one of the beds with the lamp over the desk still on. Since G didn't do more than twitch as Sam sat down to eat his Big Mac, Sam figured it wasn't worth waking him up for dinner. He ate, showered quickly, then clicked off the light over the desk.

And turned around to find G pointing his gun at him. "Whoa!" Sam exclaimed, putting his hands up.

"Sam?" G asked.

"Yeah, it's me," Sam replied.

"Oh," G said. Sam could tell he was lowering his gun.

"I'm just gonna turn the light back on, ok?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," G sighed. Sam turned back on the light, and saw G sitting up in bed, looking a little sheepish. "Sorry."

"It's ok," Sam said. "Didn't you hear me come in?"

"Not really," G said. "Sort of." He looked away, clearly not wanting to discuss it.

"Ok," Sam said, slowly. "I'm gonna turn the light out, ok?"

"Yeah," G shrugged. "It's fine."

Something in his tone didn't entirely convince Sam, but he went ahead and turned out the light and climbed into bed. Thirty minutes later, he was still aware that G was awake in the bed next to him. "G?" he asked.

"What?" G replied.

"You ok?" Sam asked, unsure if he'd get an answer.

"Why wouldn't I be?" G asked in return.

Sam sighed, sat up and turned on the light above the nightstand. "Why haven't you gone back to sleep?"

G blinked in the light. "I'm fine."

"Didn't ask that," Sam said.

"Look, I'm sorry if I'm keeping you up. I'll go take a walk," G said, pushing the covers back and starting to get up.

"You don't have to go take a walk," Sam said, getting up. "You're not keeping me up. But I woke you up, you were clearly tired, but you haven't gone back to sleep."

G made an irritated noise. "I'm fine," he reiterated.

"Ok, look," Sam said, sitting back down on the bed. "This is not working. That's the first time you've been asleep in a bed in three days. What did I do that made it so you couldn't go back to sleep?"

"Nothing," G said, defensively.

Sam thought for a minute as he watched his partner. "The light," he said, finally. "I turned out the light."

G shrugged. "So what?"

"That's what woke you up and then when I turned it back off, you didn't go back to sleep. Do you need the light on?" Sam asked.

"No," G said, but Sam wasn't convinced.

"G, it's fine. I can sleep with the light on if you'd rather have it on. I don't care," Sam sighed.

G fidgeted. "Ok," he said finally, his shoulders hunching up around his ears.

"Ok," Sam said. "You want this one on or the one by the desk?"

"Desk," G said, not looking up.

"No problem," Sam said. He got up, turned on the light by the desk, came back to the bed and turned off the light by the nightstand before climbing back into bed. G still wasn't looking at him. "Hey, it's ok," he said. "Really. I don't care one way or the other. I just wish you'd said something."

G didn't exactly relax, but he seemed a little less tense. "I don't particularly like telling people I don't like the dark," he said, finally.

"I get that," Sam said. "But I'm not people; I'm your partner. I trust you to be at your best and if something's going on that's preventing you from doing that, then I need to know about it."

"I was fine," G said. "I don't sleep that much anyway."

"But you were getting tired, and you should be able to sleep if you need to," Sam said. "So, we'll leave the light on at night, and you'll get whatever sleep you need, all right?"

"Yeah," G said.

"It's really not a big deal," Sam said. "I know lots of people who have quirks like that. I just thought you'd left the light on because I hadn't come up to the room yet. I'm sorry I turned it out."

"You didn't know," G said.

"Yeah, but I do now. So it's good, yeah?"

"Yeah, it's good," G said. He rolled over and seemed to relax, so Sam laid back down and closed his eyes. "Sam?" G said, after a moment.

"Yeah?" Sam asked, without opening his eyes.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Go to sleep," Sam said, smiling a little.


	2. Reason #2: Because Sam knows when to push

When Sam was training Dom in hand to hand (the rookie barely knew how to make a fist correctly, and that was not going to get him through), he noticed that Dom didn't seem to understand how to use his size as an advantage. Dom wasn't a big guy, but he was tall and strong enough to use it. Sam thought about having him spar with Kensi, but Dom also seemed to have issues with hitting women and Sam knew from previous training experience that it was best to address those issues separately. Well, that, and Kensi would take him apart; she wouldn't have any patience for the "don't hit a girl" thing. So, Sam asked G to help, because at least Dom would at least fight back against G.

"I don't think this is a good idea," G said, warning Sam.

"Sure it is," Sam said. "Unless your back is bugging you?" G was probably 98% recovered from being shot five times, but there was some lingering soreness, especially if he over did it.

"No, it's fine," G sighed. "All right."

Sam thought the sparring bout went fine. Dom was starting to get the hang of it, and G did a credible job of challenging Dom without being too easy on him. He did notice that G slipped away to the locker room while he was talking with Dom after they sparred, but he didn't think much of it until he'd gone to retrieve his own things and found G waiting for him outside the locker room.

"Hey," Sam said.

"Are you ready to leave?" G asked abruptly.

"Yeah, I'm ready," Sam said, blinking. He was G's ride today.

"Ok, then," G said, turning and walking towards the door.

Sam sighed inwardly. Clearly, G was in a mood and it probably had to do with sparring with Dom. And just as clearly, Sam either had to nudge it out of him or walk on eggshells until G decided where he was staying tonight- probably not with Sam, if his mood was any indication.

They got in the car and left. Sam didn't say anything, but he watched G from the corner of his eye. G was fiddling with the seam on the leg of his jeans, but wasn't glaring out the window or at Sam. So, he probably wasn't directly angry with Sam, which helped.

"Your back ok?" Sam asked, finally.

"It's fine," G said, shortly.

"Ok," Sam said. "Can you eat?" Asking G if he was hungry or if he wanted to eat was a useless question. G could be vomiting and he'd still answer in the affirmative because he was hardwired to never pass up food. So, Sam had started asking if G was _able_ to eat if he thought it might be possible that G wouldn't actually _want_ to eat.

"Yeah, I'm fine," G said, frowning over at him.

"Well, you didn't look too happy, so I thought I'd ask before I just pulled into the In and Out Burger up there," Sam said, pointing up the street.

G snorted. "Mm."

Sam didn't answer, but he pulled into the restaurant parking lot, and ordered them both a double-double with fries and a Coke. He handed the food to G and started driving towards the pier. G didn't say anything as they got out of the car and took the food down to one of the picnic tables scattered along the water.

Sam left him alone until he'd finished his burger. "So, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," G said.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh."

G shrugged. "It's nothing."

"Was Nate getting on your case today?" Sam asked.

"No," G said, twirling one of his fries into the ketchup.

"Why didn't you want to spar with Dom?" Sam asked, then.

"Just didn't want to," G said, stubbornly. When Sam just looked at him, he sighed. "It's stupid."

"You tell me that all the time, but it never is," Sam observed blandly.

"Yes, it is." G said, sharply. "It's all stupid."

That gave Sam a big clue as to which mood G was in. It didn't happen often- probably because G didn't really think all that much about the how and why of his quirks- but every once in awhile, G would get frustrated with himself that he couldn't be "normal". As far as Sam knew, he was the only person G had ever discussed any of this with, and it was a rough conversation each time. "Protecting yourself is not stupid, G," he said, calmly.

"Shouldn't have to," G said, irritably.

Sam bit back a sigh, because getting frustrated would not help. "You're right." G _shouldn't_ have to protect himself from his own brain and body. But, the fact of the matter was, sometimes he did. "What happened?" he asked.

G made a frustrated noise, but didn't answer. "G, I can't promise not to do it again if I don't know what got you," Sam said. "You gotta talk to me for this to work; you know that."

G sighed. "I don't like sparring, that's all," he hedged.

"You don't mind it when we spar," Sam pointed out.

"Yeah, well, you've got 4 inches and 30 pounds of muscle on me," G pointed out. "Plus, you're a fully trained Navy SEAL. There's no way I'm going to hurt you accidentally- I'd have to be going for broke to really hurt you."

"So, really, you don't like sparring with people who don't know what they're doing," Sam said. "Like Dom."

"No," G agreed.

"Because you're afraid you would hurt him?" Sam asked.

G shrugged and balled up the wrapper from his burger. "I did. I mean, not Dom. But..."

When he didn't say anything immediately, Sam added, "But you did hurt someone."

G sighed. "Yeah." Sam waited patiently for him to continue. "When I was in basic. I...we were supposed to be going at quarter speed. But, I kinda lost my shit when the guy I was practicing with came at me."

"You fought back," Sam said. "And you didn't know how to fight clean, I'm betting."

"No," G sighed. "Got him in the balls, then went for his face and broke his nose before the DI could react."

"Ouch," Sam winced. "What happened?"

G shook his head. "Nothing much. They could have kicked me out, but they just gave me punishment duty. The DI sat me down, told me they were giving me a second chance because it was obvious I'd just reacted, that I hadn't done it on purpose. I hadn't said anything to anyone about where I'd been before I enlisted, but I guess they could kind of tell."

"Probably," Sam said, nodding. "They see a lot of people from a lot of different situations."

"Yeah," G agreed.

"Was that the first time you'd ever sparred with someone?" Sam asked.

G nodded. "Yeah."

"And I bet that guy was bigger than you, too, huh?" Sam said.

G's lips quirked up into a crooked smile. "They all were. I was maybe 110 in full gear."

"So, the first time you were in a practice situation, a larger person came at you, and your body took over because you'd never been in a situation that wasn't real before," Sam said.

"Yes," G said, warily. They did not discuss the fact that G had been abused as a child. Sam knew, mostly because G's quirks were the sorts of reactions that someone who'd been in bad situations for a long time would have. G had alluded to incidents, but he'd never come out and told Sam about any of it, and Sam had never asked. To be honest, he didn't want details- what he knew of the neglect G had been through made him angry enough.

"But, you know what you're doing now," Sam pointed out.

"Well, yeah," G said. "That was a long time ago. But, there's nothing to say it wouldn't happen again."

"Ok," Sam said. "I can understand that. But you know I was standing right there the whole time. And you know I know how you can react- the drill instructors didn't. I wouldn't have let you hurt Dom."

"I know that," G said, irritably. "That's why I said it was stupid."

"I can get Kensi to spar with Dom, now," Sam said. "He's got to learn how to fight with women, anyway."

"Ok," G said, playing with the balled up sandwich wrapper.

"Where you staying tonight?" Sam asked, when it became clear G was done talking.

"Boat house," G said, squinting up at the sky. "I have paperwork to finish, but Nate'll be on my case if I spend the night in Ops again this week."

"Right," Sam said. "You want a ride over there, or to your car?"

G shrugged. "Whichever. If you want me to drive tomorrow, then my car."

"I can do that," Sam said. He cleared up his trash. "You ready?"

"Yeah, I'm good," G said, standing up.

"Good," Sam said. They cleared their trash and headed back to the car.


	3. Reason #3: Because Sam knows when not to ask

G had what Sam thought of as his "chewed out" face when he left Hetty's office. Sam hadn't witnessed the chewing out, but he was sure G had stood there and just let Vance and Hetty both yell at him for letting Walton Flynn slip away. That was just what G did; let it roll right off him while you yelled.

Not that Sam blamed Vance or Hetty for giving G what-for. He knew G had understood Flynn better than the rest of them, but still, he'd basically disobeyed orders. Sam knew better than to say anything right now. G had taken his lumps and he didn't need more from Sam. But Sam did need to make sure his partner was all right; having people speculate all day about the damage that foster care might have caused Flynn and his reasons for joining the Marines had probably hit a little close to home.

"You good?" he asked as G flopped down on the couch.

"Fine," G said shortly.

"You going to stay here tonight?" Sam asked.

"Yes," G said.

"Ok," Sam said. It was late, no one was around. And it wasn't like G didn't sleep here 4 nights out of 7. But G seemed...off. "Why'd you let Flynn go?" he asked, sitting down on the couch.

G groaned. "I already got this lecture. Twice."

"I'm not lecturing," Sam said. When G rolled his eyes, he insisted, "I'm not. I just want to know why you did it."

"They were going to put him in witness protection. He could do it better himself," G said.

"What about his testimony?" Sam asked.

"They don't really need it to make the case. There's plenty of evidence," G replied.

Sam had to concede that point. They had Caldwell dead to rights without Flynn's testimony, but it probably would strengthen the case, even a little. "You sympathized with him, didn't you."

G glared at him. "Quit channeling Nate."

"I'm not. I'm just trying to understand this," Sam said.

"Don't" G said, sharply.

"Don't what?" Sam asked.

"Don't try to understand," G said. He looked angry now, which confused Sam.

"Why not?" Sam asked.

"Just how selfish do you think I am?" G demanded, which confused Sam even more. Before he could ask what G meant, G continued. "You think I *want* you to understand this stuff? That I want you to understand why Flynn can take care of himself better than witness protection can take care of him?"

"G..." Sam started, but trailed off. They seemed to be talking about two different things, but G's train of thought might be the more important. At any rate, he clearly had something he needed to say.

"I don't want you to understand," G said. "I don't want you to understand not having your mom or your dad or your brothers or your grandma or where you grew up. I don't want you to understand what it's like to move from place to place to place with your stuff in a trash bag- if you get to take it with you at all." His voice was getting harsher and louder as he continued. "I don't want you to understand going to 15 schools before you're even in 8th grade. I don't want you to understand getting passed from social worker to social worker and never knowing whether they're paying any attention to what's happening to you and whether if you call them they'll come. I don't want you to understand what happens when there's a clerical error and you get put in a group home with kids who've been arrested for violent and sex offenses when you're 13 and you…" he stopped abruptly, as though he suddenly realized what words were coming out of his mouth.

Sam sat very still as G closed his eyes and swallowed hard before taking a deep breath and saying "Can we forget I said that? The last part, anyway."

"Yeah," Sam said, softly. "No questions."

"Good," G said. "Good." He opened his eyes and looked up at Sam. "But do you get it? I'm _glad_ you don't understand- that none of you understand- because that means it didn't happen to you."

"Yeah, I get it," Sam said. "I don't think you're selfish, you know."

G quirked a smile. "Thanks." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Long day."

"Yeah, it was," Sam said. "You want me to go so you can take a nap?" He had a feeling G needed to be alone for a little while after that outburst.

"I notice you didn't say so I could go to bed," G said, smirking a little.

"Nah. I know better," Sam said, standing up. "You good? For real?"

"Yeah," G said. "I'm fine. Really."

"Ok," Sam said, reaching down to squeeze G's shoulder. "'You nap and I'll see you in the morning, ok?"

"Yeah. Thanks," G said, stretching out on the couch. Sam nodded, grabbed his bag and walked out of Ops, trying to put that conversation out of his mind. He'd promised to forget what G said, and while he knew he wouldn't really forget, he could at least be trusted to honor his partner's wishes and not ask.


	4. Reason #4: Because even when Sam gets angry, he's not going anywhere

They finished with the debrief and Macy told Renko, Kensi and Eric that they could go. She just looked at Sam and G and finally shook her head. "I don't even want to talk to you right now," she said to G. She turned to Sam and said, "Try and talk some sense into him, would you?" before she left the room.

Sam looked over at his partner. G had a sullen look on his face and his arms were crossed. "What the fuck were you thinking?" Sam asked, finally. "Or, were you thinking? Because it sure didn't look like it from here."

"We needed that intelligence. I got it," G said, defiantly.

"We didn't need it that badly. Not badly enough to lose you for it!" Sam exclaimed.

"I wasn't," G started, but Sam cut him off.

"No, G. No. You went off without backup, without telling me or anyone else where you were going. I am your partner. I am your backup. I am responsible for you," Sam yelled, angrily. "This lone wolf shit does not fly. I've told you that before." He shoved back from the table. "I'm going home before I say something I'm gonna regret," he said, shaking his head. He left, still fuming.

By the next morning, he'd calmed down. He was still angry, no doubt, but he'd also reminded himself that 2 years of being G's partner wasn't going to wipe out the 30-plus prior years of having to fend for himself. And he reminded himself that G was honestly trying. This was the first really egregious episode in over six months. He used to pull this kind of shit at least once a week. It was still infuriating and G was still the most frustrating person he'd ever met, but he _was_ getting better at being part of a team. Sam still intended to sit G down and explain for at leas the one hundred and fifty-seventh time that he was not a one man army, but he could probably do it without yelling at him now.

He wasn't going to have this conversation in the fishbowl, though. The team didn't really need to hear it. Fortunately, he was met at the door with Macy handing him a slip of paper. "Take G and go sit on this place," she said. "It's a possible lead on Perkins."

"Where's G?" he asked.

Macy waved her hand towards the lounge area. "Eating breakfast."

"Got it," Sam said. He walked into the lounge and found G eating a sandwich. "Come on, let's go. Stakeout."

G looked up warily. "On who?" he asked.

"Possible lead on Perkins," Sam explained.

"Oh," G said, wrapping his sandwich back up to take with them. "Ok."

Perkins was part of a low priority case- a Marine Lieutenant who was likely a go-between for a couple of different people who were probably attempting to import poppies from Afghanistan. It really wasn't an OSP case, but Macy was doing someone in San Diego a favor in exchange for their help on a case a few months back. They tried to keep tabs on him and track him down when they had a few spare hours, in the hopes that they'd catch him doing something that would let them pick him up. It would be good for a few hours alone with G to sort things out.

G, however, didn't appear to be terribly interested in resuming their conversation as they got in Sam's car. He unwrapped his sandwich and kept eating. While ruffling the sandwich wrapper, which he knew would irritate Sam. Then, when he was finished, he kept playing with the wrapper, until they parked across the street from the address Macy gave them, and Sam reached over and took it away without comment. He opened the glove compartment and handed G a Tootsie Roll pop instead. He swiped the wrapper from the sucker and started folding it into an origami shape. It usually worked out well- something to keep G busy, something to keep Sam busy. But today, it wasn't working. G was smacking at the sucker, something else he knew would drive Sam batty.

"Are you counting licks or something?" Sam asked finally. G shrugged, but didn't answer. He started chomping on the sucker instead, though, which Sam found less annoying.

When he was finished, he kept playing with the stem, then when he'd pretty much demolished that, he moved on to fidgeting with his shirt. The incessant wiggling was driving Sam up the wall again. He grit his teeth and tried to ignore it, because he knew G was doing it on purpose. He wasn't sure why, but he knew it was deliberate.

After about a half an hour, though, he'd had enough. He reached over and put his hands over G's to still them. "Stop." he said. "Why are you so wound up today?"

G just shrugged and tried to pull away. Sam kept his hands where they were and clamped down more firmly. He knew G didn't like to be held down, but right now, he really just needed him to stop trying to be so irritating. Then he realized what was going on. G was nervous and was trying to make the other shoe drop.

"You trying to get me riled up at you?" he asked. G looked away, but didn't answer. Sam took his hands away. "What's up, G?"

"Nothing," G said, sullenly.

"Is it about yesterday?" he asked.

"No," G grumbled.

"Yes," Sam contradicted. "Look, yes, I am still angry about what you did. I don't like it when you go off like that. You know I don't like that. We've talked about it over and over. And yeah, I got pissed yesterday when I found out you'd ducked out and gone after Baxter on your own. You didn't tell us what you were doing, you didn't take your com, you didn't have any backup. You didn't know what you were walking into and you could have gotten yourself killed."

"I knew what I was doing," G said, quietly. "It turned out ok."

"One of these days it won't," Sam said. "That's why I get angry when you do this. You're not out there by yourself here."

"Why's it your problem?" G asked, sharply.

"What do you mean why's it my problem?" Sam asked, incredulously. "I'm your partner, G. I'm the one who's got your back."

G blinked. "You're still my partner?" he asked, tentatively.

Sam stared at him. "Of course I'm still your partner. What the hell kind of question is that?"

G shrugged. "You were really mad."

"Yeah, I was mad, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to be your partner anymore, G. I'm not going to walk away just because I got mad at you," Sam said, suddenly realizing that was what G had been assuming all morning.

"Oh," G said.

"I still have your back, G. I always have your back," Sam said firmly. He'd forgotten how much G needed to hear that, probably because things had been going relatively smoothly lately. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

"Ok," G said, nodding. "That's...good."

"Yeah, it is," Sam said. "So, that take care of what's bugging you?"

"Yeah," G said, sounding a little relieved.

"So, you think you can sit still for awhile, then?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," G said, shrugging one shoulder, embarrassedly.

"Good," Sam said. He regarded his partner for a minute, then said, "Next time, if you want to know if I'm still mad at you, just ask, ok? You don't need to wear a hole in your shirt to annoy me enough to snap at you. I'll just tell you if you ask, all right?"

"Right," G said, still sounding embarrassed.

"Ok, then", Sam said, grabbing another Tootsie Roll. "Maybe Perkins will finally show."

G took the sucker from him and gave him the wrapper. "Doubt it. We've done this six times now and haven't found him once."

"Yeah, well," Sam sighed. "Maybe we'll get lucky."

"Maybe," G said, sticking the sucker in his mouth. They settled back in their seats and kept watching.


	5. Reason #5: Because Sam has his back. Always.

Sam took a deep breath and closed his eyes so he didn't have to see G's too still body for a moment. He was sitting in the ICU, next to his partner's bed, waiting. It was still unclear whether Sam was going to still _have_ a partner, but Sam was going to have G's back up until the very end if it came to it.

This was the third day since G had been shot. The first night had been consumed with 12 hours of surgery, digging out the _five_ bullets, tying things off, stitching things up, reinflating a collapsed lung, realigning a fractured shoulder/collarbone, and generally making sure that things that were not supposed to have holes in them no longer had holes in them. It had taken a team of four surgeons to put G back together. But, they'd done it, and now it was a matter of just giving G enough time to heal, if he could. They were cautiously optimistic; G was in good physical condition with no health problems and he was fucking stubborn (Macy's words, not the doctors'). The major concern at the moment was preventing infection and the fact that he'd coded in the ambulance and once during surgery before they'd been able to replace his blood volume. That meant his brain had been without oxygen for awhile, which meant that there could be what one of the doctors had termed "some impairment". The neurologist had secured Sam's everlasting gratitude by snorting at that phrase and saying that yeah, it was possible G could have problems ranging from memory loss to problems speaking, reading, taking care of himself, or any number of other issues when he woke up (she used "when", not "if", which was the second reason why Sam liked her). But it was equally possible that he'd wake up and be just fine, and they wouldn't know which it would be until they let him wake up. And she'd reassured Sam that if there were problems, it was entirely possible that they wouldn't be permanent, because the brain really could recover better than they'd ever thought possible.

But it wasn't worth worrying about just yet, because G had bigger problems at the moment. He wasn't breathing on his own. The respiratory therapists had been reassuring, too, saying that G probably _could_ breathe on his own if he had to, but right now, they didn't _want_ him to. Breathing took up a lot of energy and they wanted to give G's body as much support as possible so all his energy could go to healing and not to things like breathing and digesting. So they'd given him some heavy duty sedatives and put him on the ventilator and were giving him nutrition and fluids through the central line they'd put in during surgery. They'd told Sam that in a couple of days, they'd see if G was ready to breathe for himself, but until then, the only movement G's body made was the mechanical rising and falling of his chest caused by the ventilator.

This wasn't to say that G wasn't in there. Sam was sure he was; the nurses had noticed that his heart rate and other vital signs went haywire whenever Sam was forced to leave due to the restricted visitor's hours and that they were much better when Sam was around. The nurses had let him stay as long as he could after they'd figured out that it was Sam specifically that calmed G down, and the doctors had approved it, even giving Sam a key card to the ICU so he could come and go without having to get someone to open the doors. Sam had a feeling that the discussion that Macy'd had with the hospital about the fact that G was a federal agent and that his shooting might be case related and probably classified had something to do with how accommodating the medical staff was. Fortunately, G's current walking around alias was Greg Mitchell, so Sam calling him G didn't seem too odd to the staff. At some point, Sam was probably going to have to explain that it was an alias because they were going to ask G what his name was when he woke up and chances were good G wasn't going to remember which name he'd been going by when he'd been shot. But he probably had some time before that point.

The next two days had been a blur of just waiting and watching. The doctors who came in and out all seemed to be pleased with how G was doing. Sam couldn't tell any difference between how G had looked when he'd first come out of surgery and today, but he was informed that G was improving, slowly. Sam hadn't seen any doctors yet today- sometimes they came while he was out checking in with Macy or handling things that really needed to be done- but he had a feeling that G was kind of agitated right now. He couldn't put his finger on why, exactly, but something seemed to be different. He'd been assured multiple times that G wasn't feeling much of anything right now, but that didn't seem to be quite true. He hit the call button and gently rubbed the back of G's hand while he waited for the nurse.

"Hello!" Kathy said, coming into the room (Sam was on a first name basis with all of the nurses by now). "What's up?"

"He seems kind of agitated," Sam said. "I don't know why."

"Hmm," Kathy said. She checked the monitors and made sure the leads were all where they belonged. "I'm not changing your bandages, Mr. Mitchell," she said, reassuringly- they'd noticed that G seemed to really not like that. "Just checking things out." She smiled at Sam as she straightened up. "I think he's fighting the ventilator."

"What's that mean?" Sam asked.

"That he's trying to breathe on his own," she said. "I'll call Michael and see what he wants to do." Michael was the respiratory therapist that Sam liked the best. The other ones who'd seen G were fine, but Michael had gone out of his way to make sure Sam understood everything that was going on.

"Ok, great," Sam said. He looked down at G as Kathy left the room. "You keep fighting, G," he said. "Hang in there."

Michael and Kathy came back into the room about five minutes later. "Kathy says he's fighting the vent, huh?" Michael said. Sam nodded. "Well, let's see something." He fiddled with the settings on the ventilator and stepped back, watching G closely. The mechanical movement of his chest stopped, and Sam held his own breath until he saw G's chest rise unsteadily on its own a moment later. "Hey, there you go!" Michael said. "Good job. Do it again." G did, as though he'd heard the encouragement. "Excellent." Michael said. He noted something on G's chart, looked up at the monitors again and turned to Kathy "We'll see how he does for the next half hour. I'll hang around on the floor and check on some other patients. If his sats drop below 95, come get me."

"Right," Kathy said.

"Ok," Michael said to Sam. "We're going to see if he can breathe enough to keep enough oxygen in his system over the next half hour. If he can, then we'll leave the vent switched off for awhile to let him breathe on his own. If he can't do it, we'll turn it back on."

"Yeah, ok," Sam said.

"All right," Michael said. "I will be back in about 30 minutes. Kathy will keep an eye on his monitors and let me know if something's wrong."

"Ok," Sam nodded. Michael nodded back and left the room.

Kathy smiled at Sam. "You see this number?" she asked, pointing at the number 98 on the screen that displayed G's heart beat.

"Yeah," Sam said.

"That's his pulse-ox, the level of oxygen in his blood. I'll be watching from the desk, but you keep an eye on it, too, ok? It will probably fluctuate a little, and might drop some. If it goes down to 95, hit the call button. I'll probably already be on my way to check, but just in case," she said.

"Got it," Sam said, watching the number.

"I'll be back in a few minutes to make sure everything's still going ok," Kathy said before she left the room.

Sam divided his attention between G's chest and the pulse-ox number. It did fluctuate a little, dropping to 96 before coming back up to 98. But it stayed above 95 until Michael came back a half hour later.

"How's he doing?" Michael asked.

"Good," Sam said.

"Excellent," Michael said. He watched G breathe for a moment, then listened to his chest and looked at the monitors. "Let's see how he does for the rest of the day. If he gets through to the morning on his own, we'll try taking the vent out completely. If not, then we'll give him some help and try again tomorrow."

"Ok," Sam said, feeling hopeful.

"Don't get discouraged if we have to put him back on the vent- he might get too tired to keep it up and that happens a lot. If we turn it back on, we'll put it in a mode where it's helping him breathe if he takes too long to do it for himself instead of having it breathe for him completely. It's still a good sign and a step in the right direction, ok?" Michael said. "He's doing good."

That had been the first positive step. They had been able to take G off the ventilator in the morning and put him just on oxygen. He hadn't had any trouble breathing at all, which was a very good sign. The day after he'd come off the vent, the neurologist came in and said hi to Sam.

"How's he doing?" she asked.

"Good," Sam said. "Breathing just fine."

"That's great," she said. She did the usual neuro checks and nodded to herself. "I think we're going to reduce the sedation today. See if he'll wake up for us."

"Really?" Sam asked.

"Really," she confirmed. "It'll take awhile yet- probably most of the day."

"Ok," Sam said.

"I'll have Kathy turn down the meds and I'll come back later today to see how it's going. They'll page me if he does wake up ahead of schedule, so don't worry about it. Just keep doing what you've been doing and it'll be fine," the doctor said, making a note on G's chart.

"Thanks, Dr. Chin," Sam said. She gave him a sloppy salute and left.

Kathy came in a few minutes later and fiddled with the machine that operated the IVs. "Ok," she said. "I've reduced the medicine that's keeping him sedated. He's still on the pain medication, so he shouldn't be hurting, but he might get restless as he wakes up. Hit the call light if he seems like he's in pain or if he wakes up. I don't expect that to happen until this evening, but some people come out of it faster than others."

"Right," Sam said.

"I'll be back to check on you in a little while, Mr. Mitchell," Kathy told G. She smiled at Sam and left the room.

Sam watched most of the day as G went from being nearly totally still to moving around slightly. His head tossed a little on the pillow, but he wasn't grimacing or wincing, so Sam didn't think he was really in pain. His breathing became a little quicker, but not labored. He seemed to be asleep, instead of just drugged, which Sam decided was a good sign. Around 5, though, G tried to bring his hand up to his face. Unfortunately, he tried to move the arm that had a broken shoulder and was strapped down in a sling. That seemed to push him over into panic mode.

"Hey, hey," Sam said, jumping up when he realized G was getting way more agitated. "It's ok, G. You're safe," he said, quietly, bending down to talk right into G's ear. "You're safe. It's Sam, I'm right here. I got your back. You're in the hospital, you're really hurt. One of your arms is in a sling because your shoulder is hurt. That's why you can't move it. But you're ok, everything is ok." Sam kept repeating the soothing patter as Kathy came into the room.

"What happened?" she asked.

"He tried to move his arm and couldn't," Sam said. "He doesn't like being held down."

"Ah," Kathy said. "Mr. Mitchell, can you hear me?" she asked. "Move your foot if you can hear me."

G didn't move his foot, but he moved his head away from her voice. "Um," Sam said. "He might not know you're talking to him."

"Hmm?" Kathy asked, quizzically.

"He does a lot of really classified work," Sam explained. "He goes by aliases a lot and he may not recognize what name you're using."

Kathy raised an eyebrow. "Ah. I don't suppose you can tell me his real name?"

Sam shook his head. "Can't, sorry. Not that I think you'd do anything with it, but we're not exactly sure why he was shot, so we really need to be on the safe side."

"Ooookay," Kathy said, slowly. She looked like she didn't quite believe Sam, but was willing to humor him. "You've been calling him G, would he respond to that."

"Yeah," Sam said. "Probably."

"You try, then," Kathy said.

"Ok," Sam nodded. "Hey, G, can you squeeze my hand?" he asked, since he was already holding G's free hand. G squeezed it slightly. "That's good, G. That's really good."

"See if he'll open his eyes," Kathy said.

"Can you open your eyes for me? Can you wake up?" Sam asked. "It's ok, G, you're safe here."

G's eyelids fluttered, but his eyes didn't open. Kathy nodded. "That's ok, he might not be quite ready to wake up just yet. We'll let him sleep for awhile longer."

"Ok," Sam said, still rubbing the back of G's hand.

A few hours later, Dr. Chin was back. "Ok, sleepyhead," she said, cheerfully, having been briefed about the issue with G's name. "Time to wake up for us."

G's face squinched up and he turned his head away again.

"Hey, G," Sam said, when Dr. Chin nodded at him. "Come on, man, just for a minute."

G kind of groaned, hoarsely. "His throat is probably still really irritated from the ventilator," Dr. Chin said. "We'll get him some ice chips."

"Does that sound good, G? You thirsty?" Sam asked. G mumbled something that Sam didn't hear. "I didn't hear you. Say it again."

"'lone," G mumbled.

"Sorry, buddy," Sam said, smiling a little. "Can't leave you alone just yet. Come on, open those eyes." Sam held his breath as G's eyes finally blinked open. "Hey there," he said.

G's eyes darted around, looking suddenly panicked.

"You're ok," Sam said, reaching out to gently move G's chin so he was facing Sam. "Hey, G, you're ok. It's safe. I promise." G's eyes zeroed in on Sam. "That's it. Just relax." G blinked and his face smoothed out a little. "Good, that's good," Sam said. He moved a little so he wasn't blocking Dr. Chin. "That's Dr. Chin. She's been taking good care of you. She's got to ask you a couple of questions to make sure your brains aren't scrambled, ok?"

G swallowed, winced, and whispered "'k."

"Hi there," Dr. Chin said. She turned and took a cup from Kathy, who'd just come into the room. "Here, let's get you an ice chip first." She handed the cup to Sam who spooned up a chip and offered it to G. "Is that better?" she asked.

G nodded a little. "Yeah." His voice was still really raspy, but it was more audible.

"Great," Dr. Chin said. "Can you tell me where you are?"

"Hospital?" G asked.

"Where's the hospital?" Dr. Chin asked.

G frowned a little. "LA?" he said, finally.

"Right," Dr. Chin said. "What year's it?"

"2009," G rasped.

"Excellent. Who's your friend here," she asked, pointing at Sam.

"Sam," G replied, his eyes starting to slide shut.

"One more before you fall asleep, ok?" Dr. Chin said, gently shaking his foot. "When's your birthday?"

Sam opened his mouth to say that might not be a useful question when G responded "July 22nd." Dr. Chin looked at Sam- that information must not match what was on his forms. Sam nodded. "Good. That's good. You can go back to sleep."

"Mm," G mumbled, closing his eyes.

Sam looked at Dr. Chin, who was writing in G's chart. "How'd he do?" he asked.

"Really well," Dr. Chin said. "We'll have to ask him some other questions to see about higher cognitive functions- like testing his short and long term memory- but right now, I'd call him alert and oriented." She glanced down at G, who'd fallen asleep again. "Well, alert is probably not the best word at this exact moment."

Sam smiled a little at the quip. "Yeah, not so much."

"But this was good. He woke up, he could tell us where he was, he could identify you, he knew what year it was. All good signs. Right now, I'm not expecting there to be any real problems. He'll likely have some short term memory loss- he may have lost a day or two around the injury and that's common and nothing to worry about," Dr. Chin said.

"Right," Sam said. He knew that wasn't unusual.

"So, we'll let him sleep for awhile, and see where things stand when he wakes up tomorrow. But, if he keeps improving at this rate, we might be able to move him out of the ICU in a couple of days," she said.

"Wow," Sam said. "That would be really good."

"Yup," she said. "It's still going to be awhile before he's back up on his feet," she warned. "Even with no setbacks, I wouldn't expect him to be released from the hospital for at least a couple of weeks. He needs to be able to stand up, walk around, eat and have the pain under control with oral medications before they'll let him go."

"Ok," Sam said. "But, does this mean he's out of critical condition?"

"In the sense that he's not in imminent danger of dying, he's been out of critical condition for a couple of days now," Dr. Chin replied. "I would have called it serious condition this morning, since he was still unconscious, but his vital signs have been in good shape since he came off the ventilator."

"Oh," Sam said. "I didn't know."

"I'm sorry, we should have told you. But we don't usually use those terms with the patients and their families. They're mostly just if we need to talk to the media, since we don't give out the same kinds of details that we'd give you," she explained. "He's improving a lot, which is the important part."

"Thanks," Sam said.

"You're welcome," she said. "I will see you tomorrow. Let Kathy know if he wakes up again, but he may not."

"I will," Sam said. He leaned over and whispered to G, "I'll be right back, ok. You keep sleeping." He waved at Kathy and held up his phone as he walked past the desk. She nodded and he left the ICU for the waiting room. He took a deep breath and called Macy.

"Macy," she answered.

"Mace, it's Sam," he said, smiling. "He woke up."

"What?" Macy asked. "He's awake?"

"No, right now, he's asleep again. But he was awake for a couple of minutes, answered all the doc's questions right. They said he might make it out of the ICU in a couple of days if he keeps improving," Sam said, grinning.

"That's the best news I've heard all week," Macy said. "I'll come by in the morning, ok?"

"That would be great," Sam said.

"Want me to bring you anything?" she asked.

"Coffee and a change of clothes?" he asked. There was a gym in the hospital and he'd managed a shower in their locker room, and he'd bought a shirt in the gift store, but a change of clothes would feel really good.

"Done," she said. "See you tomorrow."

"Thanks, Mace. See you," he said.

G woke up again a few hours later. "Hey," Sam said, dragging his chair closer to the bed. "How're you doing?" G just blinked at him, confused. "Does it hurt anywhere?" Sam clarified.

G shook his head. "Good," Sam said. "You need another ice chip?" G nodded. "Here," he said, snagging the cup from the bedside table. "Better?" he asked.

G nodded. "Happened?" he whispered.

"You were shot. It was a drive by," Sam said. "You remember anything?"

G shook his head weakly. "How long?"

"You've been here for about 5 days," Sam replied. "You're hurt pretty bad."

"Oh," G said. He tried to move his arm again.

"Hey, no, don't try that," Sam said. "Your shoulder is broken, they don't want you moving it around yet."

G frowned. "Broken?"

"One of the bullets went through your shoulder," Sam explained. "You'll be in a sling for awhile."

"No," G said.

"Yeah, buddy, sorry," Sam said. "Don't have a choice."

G shook his head. "Need two hands."

"You don't need two hands right this minute," Sam said. "All you need to do is lie there and rest."

"No, go home," G said.

"Not for awhile," Sam said, knowing exactly what G meant. "You're not going anywhere anytime soon."

"No," G said, in as firm of a voice as he could manage.

"G," Sam sighed. "I know this isn't going to be easy, but trust me, you're safe here. No one knows you're here, ok? We used the name on the license in your wallet and Macy burned the alias. I've been here at the hospital almost the entire time, and Kensi was here when I had to leave. The staff knows not to let anyone in to see you if they aren't on the list we gave them. Eric's got eyes all over the place and nothing remotely suspicious has happened. We are not going to let anything happen to you while you're here."

G frowned. "Don't remember."

"I know," Sam said. "You might not."

"Thirsty," he said. Sam gave him another ice chip. "Stay?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Sam said.

G seemed to think about that for a minute. "Ok."

"Ok," Sam agreed.

G's eyes were starting to slide shut again. "Don't fight it," Sam soothed. "Go back to sleep."

"Ok," G said, letting his eyes close. Sam leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes as well. This was going to be a long few weeks, but he was going to be here.


End file.
